The journey so far

Marlon and I reached the halfway point of our trip. This is the story so far, in pictures. 

We started off in Ljubljana... 

then headed to Maribor... 

Bled... 

... and Koper, Slovenia.

Then it was a short hop over the border to Venice, Italy... 

and now, Bologna. 

Seriously. Bologna didn't earn the nickname La Grassa, or The Fat One, for nothing. There's not much to do here except eat. And eat and eat and eat. So that's all Marlon and I have been doing here so far. It's a miracle I still have a waist, but please don't ask me to turn sideways in pictures.

While we roll ourselves to Florence tomorrow, you all have a great weekend!

Slovenia in Instagram

Buon giorno from Venice, where Marlon and Pete, Mimi's husband, are engaged in the second phase of their Great Farting Battle (a.k.a. Ututan Wars). How romantic! 

I kid, I kid. After five exhausting but fulfilling days on the road with the Glee Club, we're happy to finally enjoy couple time. Venice is the perfect city for that.

I will miss Slovenia though; I was thoroughly charmed by it. There's a lot to write about, but that will have to wait until I get home. For now, let me share a few glimpses via Instagram. 

Flying into Slovenia via the Alps; public art in the center of Ljubljana; sunset at our hostel in Maribor; waiting for the European Grand Prix to begin; reflections at Lake Bled; sunset at Koper harbor.

I wasn't too keen on Instagram, but the prospect of being away for so long finally pushed me into it. Follow me, currystrumpet—I may have come late to the party, but I bring goodies with me!

Dear Glee Club

Hello from Maribor, Slovenia! Today is the European Grand Prix for Choral Singing, which is why I'm here. When my beloved Ateneo College Glee Club competes against four of the best choirs in the world (from Ukraine, Sweden and two from Japan), I will be there to cheer them on. 

I was part of the cast that competed in the European Grand Prix 11 years ago, when it was held in Debrecen, Hungary. We lost. It was one of the most emotional and intense shared experiences of my life.

The support for the present Glee Club has been amazing, further amplified by social media. Back in our day, we lived and competed in a bubble. Below are excerpts from a letter I wrote them, which they read on the bus to Maribor.

Dear Glee Club Batch 2012,

You’re in Europe! Yay! Congratulations on getting here! Everyone who has ever toured with the Glee Club knows what you’ve been through to get here. You’re here, individually and as a group, because you deserve to be here. Many of you made tough choices; showed resourcefulness and dedication; listened to your passions; followed your guts. For these things alone, you are already winners and deserve to be congratulated.

I’m so excited for all of you, because 11 years ago, I was just like one of you. I know what’s in store for you guys: the best time of your lives. 

After we sang in Debrecen, many of us in the EGP cast shared the same feeling: that we could not have sung any better. The group was so emotional coming off that stage, even before the winners were announced. And it wasn’t because we were nervous or wanted to win. It was because we recognized that we had done our best. It’s hard to avoid using clichés here, because in this case the cliché is true. 

Look for that feeling when you step off the stage. Aim for that. To know, personally, deep in your heart, that you have given everything you could give. I pray for that for all of you. 

You will make (if you are not already making) memories that will last you the rest of your lives. You will learn (or are learning) what you love most and want in life. Remember what makes you feel happiest and hold on to it. It will help you sharpen your intuition and follow your heart later on, when life doesn’t make it so easy. 

I can’t say this enough: I know what it feels like where you are. That’s what makes me so excited for all of you. And so proud, too. 

I am rooting for you guys (hindi pa ba obvious?) with all my heart. My prayers and love are with you all. 

GO GLEE CLUB! 

Love, 

Deepa

Batch 2000-2001

If you want to support the Glee Club, or see the level of excellence the Philippines is at in choral singing, or if you're just curious about how an international choral competition works, check it out via livestream at 4pm in Slovenia, 10pm Manila time. The winner will be announced at 7pm in Slovenia, 1am in Manila.

Spring break

I'll be away for the next couple of weeks on The Big Trip of the year. This trip will be the longest Marlon and I have traveled together. It's even longer than our honeymoon, and I'm planning everything. So while I'm excited, I'm also a little freaked out.

But that's all in the fun of traveling. Being able to go on a long trip was what I wanted when I started getting restless in Singapore. That bout of "metaphysical unease" two years ago eventually brought us here, and now we get to take that long trip. I couldn't be more thankful for that.

Our (rather ambitious) itinerary includes a mix of places I've been before, and new places that we'll discover together for the first time:

• The 2012 European Capital of Culture, Maribor, Slovenia, for the European Grand Prix for Choral Singing. The Glee Club qualified 11 years ago, and qualified again this year. Go Ateneo! One big fight!
• Ideally, if I wake up early enough, a day trip to Lake Bled in Slovenia
• The Mediterranean coastal town of Koper, Slovenia
• A double date with the Duhamels in Venice
• One night in Bologna, to stuff our faces with Italy's finest
• FLORENCE. Four days. Can't wait.
• San Gimignano, our base for exploring Tuscany and the nearby towns of Siena, Lucca and Volterra
• Marina di Carrara on the Ligurian coast to visit relatives on Marlon's side
• Pisa, where we catch our flight back to Amsterdam

I'll be traveling with the laptop, but don't expect to be blogging on the fly. So in the meantime, feel free to explore the archives, wish us luck and pray that we'll still be solvent/married/shaped vaguely like humans by the time this trip is over.

Over and out!

P.S. "Viaje" calligraphy above by yours truly. 

Curiosity

I found this photo of Rogue that captures one of my favorite expressions of hers. I would say it was crying out to be translated into watercolor, but that wouldn't be completely accurate. 

It was more like it was looking at me, head cocked to one side, with a quizzical look in its big green eyes. "Why don't you paint me?" it seemed to be saying. So I did. 

You know what they say about cats and curiosity. What they don't say is that curiosity can be irresistibly adorable. 

Chocoholics anonymous

I tried not to shop on my last two trips out of the country. I succeeded in Prague, but failed miserably in Köln. Unpacking after both weekends, I discovered that I'd managed to acquire multiples of my favorite things. The first was shoes; the second, chocolate. 

The full stash, clockwise from top left:

• Stainer 75% Cocoa with Cinnamon, from Italy. Cinnamon and dark chocolate, two of my favorite things. This brand has gorgeous packaging, metallic gold with field-guide style botanical and zoological illustrations.
• Madecasse 63% Cocoa with Sea Salt and Nibs, from Madagascar. Am I the only one thinking "I like to move it move it"? I suppose "nibs" means it's crunchy.
• Casa Amatller Chocolate a la Taza, also with cinnamon, from Spain. The Amatller family made chocolate and lived in Gaudi's famous building in Barcelona. Sounds like my kind of life. One bar should make four cups of chocolate. I should have broken it out this week, it might have taken the edge off my extended-winter blues. 
• Ritter Sport Nugat from Germany. My absolute favorite German import. I've been addicted for over a decade.
• Becks Cocoa in "A Clockwork Orange" from Germany. Hot chocolate flavored with Moroccan oranges plus a classic film reference, ooh. This requires a precious cup.
• Emils Gustavs Dark Chocolate with Pink Peppers, from Latvia. Finding treats like this (from "one of the best confectioneries in Eastern Europe") is why I love living in Europe. I mean, Baltic chocolate. Really, who eats chocolate from Latvia? Now, I do! 
• How could I leave out the humble Chocnut? Cas handed me and Marlon two packs of homegrown peanut buttery goodness when I watched the Glee Club in Oberweyer, a gesture that delighted me... and my taste buds. 

The best part about this stash? Only the Ritter and Stainer have actually been consumed. Willpower for the win!

Brunch in the Belgian Quarter

I've been to Köln several times, but never ventured too far away from the Dom and the main shopping street, Schildergasse. I made it a point to change that on my most recent visit two weeks ago, intrigued by bits and pieces I'd read about an area packed with stylish shops and cool cafes, called the Belgisch Viertel or Belgian Quarter.  

This funky district starts from the main street of Aachener Strasse, which, I was happy to discover, was literally across the street from our hotel, the Barcelo Cologne City Center. The extremely helpful Travelettes Smart Guide to Köln spoke of the Metzgerei & Salon Schmitz as a quirky little place for Sunday brunch (and for hipster-spotting), and it was easy enough to find, thanks to the swarm of sunning hipsters on the sidewalk. 

Marlon and I immediately joined the sun-powered Europeans (oh, to what depths we tropical folk have fallen), delighted to be in the sunshine and relieved that no blood had to be shed to win a table.

Drinks are served from the cafe next door, while meals must be ordered at the counter of the tiny Metzgerei Schmitz itself, which is a former butcher's shop with lovely old tiles and a cozy atmosphere. I was proud of myself for ordering entirely in what's left of my college German. 

 

In addition to the big brunch plates, fluffy pancakes and large, flavorful quiches, I was delighted to find an incarnation of one of my favorite desserts in the world... tarte au citron! Sunshine and lemon makes Deepa a happy girl.

A post-brunch stroll around the neighborhood led us to the Brusseler Platz, a small, tree-lined square where even more hipsters sat around basking in the sunshine (and in their own their top-knotted hipness)...

... while my nose for bargains led us to a pop-up vintage flea market tucked into an Indonesian restaurant. #score



It was Sunday, so most of the cafes and stores were closed, like this interesting little "crepresso bar" that would have otherwise drawn us in for a taste.

So we decided to simply enjoy the little details of this neighborhood, from quirky street art...

... to quirky real art (like this mockup of a Swedish favela)

... to evidence of quirky residents. 

Determined shoppers will always find something that's open... even in a European country on a Sunday afternoon. The Boutique Belgique was an especially satisfying find. While Marlon pretended to get his inner thug on, I seized a pair of fabulous Balmain brogues on über-markdown. This was literally my face when I found them; Marlon heard me gasp and immediately pointed the camera at me when I whirled around to face him with the shoes. Good man. 

Down the street, we stepped into Simon und Renoldi, a super chic store for home, fashion and lifestyle. Aside from the hip styling and great brands, we also saw... the ubiquitous banig. Level up ang Pinas, ha! Dati pang-Divisoria lang itey.

Our attention now directed to the floor, Marlon and I spied this beautiful woven cotton rug by House Doctor, which reminded us of a Indian block printing made modern by the coral on gray palette...

... and is now on our living room floor. Yay for conjugal impulse buys! They feel so much more justified. 

I wonder how much success/fun/damage the Belgian Quarter has to offer when all the stores are actually open. Then again, maybe I shouldn't try too hard to find out.

Limburg's half-timbered houses

The weekend after we went to Prague, Marlon and I were off again—this time to Germany to watch Florence and the Machine in Köln. Coincidentally, the Glee Club's first stop on this year's European tour was Oberweyer, a tiny village just an hour's drive from Köln, that same weekend. So we decided to drive over to see them. 

On the way to Oberweyer, we had a few hours to stop by Limburg an der Lahn in the region of Hessen. My first tour with the Glee Club in 2000 included a lot of stops in Hessen, particularly in the green, hilly part known as Taunus, where Limburg is. I have wonderful memories of a beautiful Sunday afternoon driving around the hills of Taunus and walking in the cobbled, winding alleys of  Limburg's Altstadt, or Old Town. 

What makes this charming town so special is its collection of perfectly preserved half-timbered houses, with exposed timber framework, from the 17th and 18th century. 

From school gym to work table

At the start of the year, I decided I needed a desk. All my activities—writing for work, blogging, painting, sewing, and the new kid on the block, calligraphy—took on the dining table, and that wasn't working for me anymore. In winter, the dining room was hard to heat because of its size and its proximity to the outside hallway, so I would end up taking my laptop with me into bed... and not getting anything done! A proper desk would give me a place to build a routine around and would be great for my productivity. 

I knew what I wanted: a desk that was at least 1.5 meters, longer than it was deep, with space for me to do more than just one thing at a time. It had to have a tabletop that I wouldn't mind staining with paint or ink, made of a warm material (no metal, no laminate). It had to have character—possibly used, preferably vintage—but clean lines. It had to be something we could repurpose as a console or buffet table if we ever needed the space it would take up in the guest room. Finally, it had to be something I would want to take back with me if we ever moved back home (so no Ikea). 

So I started looking around—thus the trips to Van Dijk en Ko, the IJ-Hallen flea market, and more. I constantly referred to my little collection of home offices on Pinterest to keep me on track. I saw a lot of desks that were tempting, but not quite there—too deep, too low, too short, too expensive. 

Then my friend Karyn, who shares my love for old and repurposed things, drove me to the little town of Baarn, just 20 minutes out of Amsterdam, to visit J. van Ijken Oude Bouwmaterialen. Oude bouwmaterialen means old building materials, and that was exactly what Mr. van Ijken had for sale—an entire hectare filled with old floors, doors, windows, tiles, tubs, gates, knobs, bricks, fireplaces, you name it. All of it reclaimed from homes, ships, churches, schools, bridges, train stations and more, waiting to be found by odd people who love old things with character. Like me.

When we walked into a warehouse filled with old floorboards, I was immediately seized by a wild thought. If I couldn't find my perfect desk... should I just build it?

These are the kinds of thoughts you have after living more than a year in a country and culture where everyone does everything themselves. You hear about people building houses and you start to think, it can't be that hard.

This old herringbone floor from Hungary reminded me of a beautiful herringbone desk I had seen on Pinterest, and inflamed my confidence. "Yes," it whispered. "Just build it." 

Then I saw just the thing. Old hardwood planks from a school gym in Holland, for €60 per square meter. Pops of color. Lots of character. Perfect.

Finding the wood spurred me into action. That afternoon, I picked up a pair of clean, shiny chrome Vika Moliden legs from Ikea for €25 apiece. I got Marlon on board (you didn't think I was going to build this all by myself, did you?), and we agreed to rent a car and come back for the planks.

The following weekend, the owner himself, Jan van Ijken, helped me select the pieces that had this old colorful tape. I'd hoped I could have the tabletop built there and just cart it home in the car, but he was very clear about that not being his business. "I supply the wood," he said firmly and gruffly (but not rudely). He did help me cut the planks into my desired length of 1.5 meters, so thanks, Mr. van Ijken!

After purchasing some wood glue and a small power sander, it was time to build my work table.

Meeting Chuvaness

I can't remember when I started getting addicted to Chuvaness. I think I had just moved to Singapore and was pretty homesick. Chuvaness was one of my connections to home, but soon became a thoroughly engrossing read for reasons beyond that: unconventional tastes, writing that's both conversational and no-frills direct, a strong and unique point of view and a love for great design. 

Cecile Zamora-van Straten's posts about her fascinating life in Manila, filled with fashionable friends, indulgent travels, and a happy home with her Dutch chef husband and three sons, soon became—and still is—one of my regular online haunts. Her blog inspired me to start seeing "hard-to-understand" monochromatic clothing in a new light, and introduced me to stores like Bleach Catastrophe and brands like Muji (life-changing!). I know I'm not the only one who's been influenced by her—the "Chuvaness effect" is an acknowledged phenomenon in the Philippine blogosphere.

So when I sent her an email inviting her to meet up on her family trip Holland this summer, I didn't think Cecile (the Cecile, in my mind) would actually agree. But she did! And that is how I found myself on a train to Utrecht one sunny spring afternoon to meet one of my favorite bloggers. 

For a woman with a huge online presence and bold (often controversial) opinions, Cecile is tiny and soft-spoken in real life. More importantly, I quickly realized that she is a fag hag just like me (mabuhay ang babaeng bading!). That made it refreshingly easy to get along with her and just hang out, walking the charming streets of Utrecht. 

We went window shopping... and Cecile did some real (I mean, serious) shopping, as she eventually ended up buying this stunning, huge painting by Dutch artist Karin Vermeer.

I met her family: chef Jeroen, Ben and Markus. Not only them, but a whole bunch of Dutch relatives to boot...

... who dragged her (physically) into a family photo. Funny.

"Meeting your family is like meeting characters from a book!" I told her. I feel like I've been reading about them for years, so finally getting to meet them was pretty surreal. Especially when she instructed her sons to "kiss Tita." I'm highly averse to being called Tita at the (relatively young) age of 30, so I asked: "Pwede bang Ate na lang?" Apparently, the boys prefer Tita, so Tita it is.

Being married myself, one of my favorite things about the afternoon was seeing Cecile and Jeroen, one of the blogosphere's cutest couples, together in the flesh. They have cute nicknames for each other, and Jeroen takes her hand while crossing the street; all these sweet little in-between moments that make a marriage, which you don't see on a blog. When we stepped into Albert Heijn, I felt like I was going grocery shopping with a hipper version of Ned and Alice Wakefield (or your favorite fictional couple).

And of course, how could I leave out finally meeting the famous Yaya Bhing?

I don't know many yayas who get to go to Europe, use North Face outerwear and Muji luggage, and have a travel allowance in Euros. Bongga! Naturally, we had to have a picture together. My only regret is that I didn't ask her to braid my hair.

I walked back with Cecile to her apartment close to the city center, and spent a few minutes outside just talking and hanging out. She was bundled up in her chic mom/travel/cold weather uniform and I had to take off my coat because I felt warm (it was about 10℃, but sunny). 

Finding out how many common friends and acquaintances we have reminded me how small a Pinoy's world can be. "How come you know everyone?" she asked me. That's Manila for you—there's always a connection somewhere. Besides, who doesn't love off-the-record chismis ? ;)

Meet the Van Stratens!

It was one of those times that can be accurately be described as "surreal, but nice." Thanks, Chuvaness, for a fun afternoon. Hope to see you back in Holland... but till then, there's the Internet!

Googoo&gaga in Holland

Marlon and I went through a Discovery Weekend for couples a few months before we got married. One of the couples we met (briefly) that weekend was graphic designer AJ Dimarucot and his then-bride-to-be, Audrey David. I was a (low-profile) fan of AJ and wanted to commission one of his lightboxes, but I got too busy with the wedding and moving to Singapore to push through with an order.

When Audrey and AJ started their clothing brand googoo&gaga in 2008, I became an instant fan. I fell in love with their super cute art-driven onesies, proudly designed and made in the Philippines, and wished I could stock up on all of their designs for my future baby. I knew that was a little absurd since babies were not on our conjugal agenda then, so I racked my brain for weeks to find a pregnant or new mommy friend to gift with a googoo&gaga onesie.

On a visit home in December 2008, I met up with Audrey for a quick catch-up and to buy onesies for our managing director in London and the wife of a close family friend in Greece (yes, I was really stretching). Since then, awesome things have happened to this awesome pair, including a launch in France at the Playtime Paris trade show last year. I've followed their success online, and I'm still a fan. 

A few months ago, Audrey asked me on Facebook if I was going to be busy in July. She told me that googoo&gaga was going to participate in Kleine Fabriek (Little Factory), an international trade fair for children's fashion, shoes and accessories, in Amsterdam this summer and that they needed a booth manager. Would I be interested?

I would have liked to say that I immediately shouted HELL YES! In reality, I was set to drive to Belgium that weekend for a summer music festival featuring my favorite flamenco-metal duo, Rodrigo y Gabriela. But after a few days, I made the decision to put my festival tickets up for sale online. Then I said HELL, YES. So I am now officially one of googoo&gaga's two booth managers for Kleine Fabriek in July. Yay!

Last week, I got a package in the mail from Angelique Villaraza-Dominici, googoo&gaga's partner in France. I loooove getting packages in the mail!

Inside was a colorful printed canvas tote from SM Kultura and a sweet handwritten note from Angelique.



And inside that, was something I've always wanted...

Mucha on my mind

How was your Easter weekend? Mine was quiet and laid-back, made all the better by the company of a wonderful guest from home.

Just one last Prague post before I move on. I couldn't leave Prague without having paid a visit to the Mucha Museum, which houses the major works of one of my favorite artists, Alphonse Mucha. 

One of my favorite coloring books when I was a kid was my Art Nouveau stained glass coloring book from Goodwill Bookstore. To this day, I love Art Nouveau, and Mucha is Art Nouveau. 

Dance (public domain)

When I started working at GMA, I considered it destiny that I ended up in an office where the glass walls of the pantry were plastered with a huge mural of Mucha's Dance (above). I managed to transmit my Mucha fixation to my work partner Charlie, an insanely talented art director who also tended to obsession. Mucha's Dance became the jump-off point for a slew of Art Nouveau-inspired outdoor and print materials for a big account that took over our lives. I wish I kept copies of Charlie's work, it was all so gorgeous. 

Mucha's work is not high art, but it is beautiful. Though he painted, most of his work was fairly commercial: from theater posters to advertisements for champagne and milk to biscuit tins. Many examples of his work, like Spring, Grapes, the poster for Lorenzaccio, and The Slav Epic (all of which I saw at the museum) today are in the public domain.

It was amazing to come face to face with works that I had only seen as small pictures in books, and realize that they are actually HUGE. Unfortunately, pictures are not allowed inside the Mucha Museum. So I had to settle for taking photos outside. That day, I was in "simple girl" mode with the Longchamp bag and ponytail, although I would hope the Marni for H&M top elevates it somewhat.

I took home a few postcards of my favorite works. 

My favorite souvenir, though, was this handmade notebook. I love notebooks, so this was perfect for me. But it was also very unusual in that it harbored a few hidden treasures. Click on through to peek inside...

Meat me in Prague

Aside from having amazing coffee and cakes, Prague is also a great city for meat. Sausages and stews are part of the Czech national cuisine, and I certainly filled up my year's (meager) quota of pork during the three days I was there. 

We kept seeing these vendors grilling huge hocks of ham. There was one a few meters from our hotel, one on the Old Town Square, and another at Wenceslas Square near the National Museum. I swear, the meat drew Marlon like a moth to a flame. "Go for it," I kept telling him, and he kept saying no (go figure). 

On our last day, he finally gave in and ordered a big plate of ham for himself, along with a bowl of fried potatoes. I can't take meat in such... meaty form, so I opted for a spicy sausage with mustard instead. This was our cheapest lunch by far (about €6, or Php 240), and we ate it on the street. 

For our last meal, we decided to splurge on Cestr, a restaurant located in the new National Museum building (across the road from the old one).

It's a modern Czech restaurant that specializes in beef—every single part of a cow, in fact. Ever tried the hanging tender or oyster blade? By referring to the handy diagram folded into the single-sheet menu, now you can.

This was heaven for my meat-loving birthday boy. He declared his roast brisket the best he'd ever had, and excitedly scampered back from the men's room to tell me he'd seen an entire cow hanging in a meat locker out back. I could have sworn his eyes shone when the waiter who served our meal told us that the meat had been aged for 60 days.

As for me, well... okay. I'm not a big meat person but I did enjoy my meal, which was beef shoulder braised in a pepper sauce. I was more impressed by the bowl of fries that came with the meat. They were absolutely perfect. Best. Fries. Ever. 

What really won me over, though, was dessert. The Czech Republic is known for its beer, so I made sure to get not just a beer, but a beer in dessert form: dark beer ice cream, with plums stewed in rum, caramel whipped cream and crunchy caramel bits on top. It was every bit as good as it sounds (and possibly more).